


On Duty

by EjBlaKit



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Frustration, pondering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EjBlaKit/pseuds/EjBlaKit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things don't always go to plan, even for a man as resolute as Judge Dredd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Duty

He's angry with himself. Furious. 

Leather creaks as his hands ball into fists, the fire in his gut burning into his muscles, making them shake. 

It had been easy at first, a passing admiration. She was strong, naturally gifted in her mental capabilities, and fierce. She'd gone down hard at the last hurdle, but it hadn't mattered by then. She'd been stone-quiet to the surface, her stubborn mind already set. 

He'd seen her occasionally after that, a civilian roaming the streets, almost unrecognisable in casual gear.

It must have been hard for her, after a life in the Academy, of rigid structure and expectations, to be left in a world of disorder and misery. She'd looked healthy, still fit, but the clothes she wore were two sizes too big. She hadn't seen him, silent sentinel on an over pass, tracking her movements with unprofessional curiosity.

The passing admiration had flexed its little feelers as he'd been summoned into the Hall of Justice, an unrelated matter. She had walked past him, bearing her full eagle, leather uniform well fitted, gold sparkling. Fresh. New. But her eyes had been concrete, hard and unforgiving as she slid her Lawgiver home, helmet tucked under her arm. 

It's happiness when he sees her again, rain-slick as she runs towards him, panic on her face as she grabs his forearm and _pulls_. She's surprisingly strong, helping him to his feet. Because of her they track down the suspect and apprehend him, finishing a foul night on a good note. 

She's so ready with a smile, quick with a joke. He's uncomfortable around her, uneasy, he doesn't know how to act and she teases him for it. But their paths separate as her division takes her elsewhere.

It could have been months or years, perhaps only days when their paths re-collide. Happiness, and something else. She's smiling at him, teasing his mood, and he frowns at her. She bumps her hip against his thigh, trying to pry something out of him. He knows he should remove himself from the case, but he can't. They work together for two weeks and he can't stand to be away. She's so enthusiastic. It's all he can do, when her blood begins to stain her hair, to stay faithful to the Law. 

He apprehends and metes out his justice. Attempted murder of a Judge is a death sentence. A part of him wanted to serve more than just a bullet.

She catches him in a rare moment, after she's fully healed and well-moved on. Judges can't dwell on scars. She hadn't made a noise as she entered his office, unusual for her. He hadn't been aware she was even there until he turned and saw her. There was no joke, no smile. She simply took the tweezers from his hand and sat on his table, his palm in hers as she worked out the metal splinters that had been bothering him. 

The skin on skin bothers him more, but he can't place why.

Nothing. For a long time. He finds himself looking up at passing patrols, eyes scanning helmets and badges. He looks for the head of gold and the bubbly laugh. Something in his chest feels hollow. His job can't fill it and it makes him angry. 

She plugs the hole when she reappears, offering assistance on a case. There are many other PSI-Judges, but she came specifically for him. It isn't false hope, she told him this explicitly and he grunts it away, burying her words deep within himself, where she can't see them take root. 

He's angry with himself, furious because it's affecting his work. Because he cares for something other than the Law, than his city. 

When he gets the chance to sleep in his own bed he lays awake, thinking about her patrolling without a helmet. 

He's boiling over, almost past tipping point. Perhaps it's time for the Long Walk. He's past his prime if he can't think straight. 

'You shouldn't.' She is sitting beside him on the stairs, watching citizens stroll about their daily lives. Their Lawmasters are nearby, scanning for five suspects in a rape and robbery case. He tilts his head, looking at her, refusing to speak. Her smile is small, soft. The press of her body against his is burning, distracting. He hopes the perps never appear so they can stay this way forever. 'You should stay.' He doesn't ask how she knows. Sometimes she just knows things. 

A series of alarms sends them to work, breaking the contact.

'I know the Law.' She says to him, some days later, the case long gone, several more have taken its place, dividing their attention. 'I know what it means to you.' She takes his hand in her small ones. He looks at their gloves. His are faded and worn, padding almost gone. He needs to file for replacements. 'I won't jeopardise that for you, but I know.' She smiles tentatively at his frown, her eyes liquid warmth as they look up at him. At only him. Her hands squeeze his sympathetically. 'I feel it too.'

He's angry with himself. Frustrated.

But it's bearable now.

He wears it like a badge and relishes the chance to see her.


End file.
